


Untitled

by Jassy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-04
Updated: 2011-01-05
Packaged: 2017-10-14 09:52:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/147995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jassy/pseuds/Jassy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry has had a crush.  He finds out his crush is returned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old, old fic, never before seen by man nor beast. I spruced it up a bit, but you've been warned.

Ignoring the whispers and gawking as best he could, Harry helped shoo out the last of the day’s customers. It had somehow gotten around that he was part owner of the shop, and business for the twins had boomed. In fact, he rather suspected business would double yet again now that he’d actually been spotted on the premises.

Fred locked the door with a flourish of his wand. “Ye gads, demanding little blighters. Hallo, Harry.” Grinning with customary good cheer, Fred gave him a quick, one armed hug as he walked by.

“Hey, Fred.” He gestured at the door. “Sorry about that. I didn’t realize it was so early or I would have come in the back.”

“No worries,” George assured him cheerfully. He came around the counter, broom and dustpan following. A flick of his wand set the tools to cleaning. “We can always use extra business.”

“Besides,” Fred chimed in, “once school starts, it’ll be bloody boring round here.”

Relieved, Harry started straightening the items on the shelves. “Boring? Around you two? Never!”

“You’re too kind, Master Potter, too kind!” George bowed low, peeking up through his bangs and winking as he did. He laughed and straightened when Fred smacked his arse on the way to the register to count it down. In short order, the three of them had the shop clean and restocked for the next day. Harry followed the twins up to their flat when they were done. “Oi, Fred, what do we have to eat, anyway? Must show our illustrious guest a proper good time,” George said, stretching until his back popped audibly.

Harry smacked him upside the head. “Behave. Or I’ll put one of your Shrinking Ices down your trousers.”

Fred brushed by them on his way to the kitchen. “Like he’d notice?”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you identical twins?”

“Nearly. Tragic accident of birth, y’see. I got the brains and cock, he got the brawn.” Fred assumed a mournful air. “Terrible, it is. But he’s your man to open the pickle jar and not much else.”

George swatted him then grinned at Harry. “Don’t mind him. The poor dear feels so inadequate since his don’t work that I let him think all that to make him feel better.”

“You’re both a couple of twits,” Harry said mildly, suppressing laughter. Then he pushed them into a couple of chairs at the table. “Sit, I’ll make supper. I haven’t been on my feet all day.”

“Ah, a man of leisure,” Fred sighed.

“Or perhaps someone’s pampered boytoy?” George wondered.

“I wish,” Harry muttered before he could stop himself. Flushing painfully, Harry quickly busied himself with finding and fixing something for dinner. Rather than taking the opening, the twins remained quiet. When he glanced over his shoulder, he nearly smiled. Dragonhide boots had been discarded, and the twins had put their feet into each other’s lap for mutual foot rubs. But the serious, somewhat sad look they were sharing ruined the picture. Harry was getting sick of seeing that look crop up on people’s faces.

A bit irate at seeing the twins doing it, he surreptitiously sent a tickling charm at their feet. George, unfortunately, flailed in just the right (or wrong, if you were Fred) way to kick Fred in the groin. “Serves you right,” Harry told them. “If I wanted to see that ‘Poor Harry’ look, I’d visit your mum.” He paused, eyeing the hunched over form of Fred and the helplessly giggling George. “Do you need some ice?” he asked. George lost it and fell out of his chair, and even Fred had to grin at him.

Later, Harry found himself at one of the twins’ rather battered sofa, with Fred’s feet in his lap. George was on the floor with his head resting on Harry’s knee. The casual contact was something only the twins did with him. Neither seemed to have any problems with manhandling in any way they wished, or even outright snuggling him. Even Molly confined herself to hugs only during hellos and goodbyes. It was...addictive, and Harry was happy for it to be so.

The wireless was turned on, although none of them were really paying attention to it. Instead, it was simply background to the easy conversation that had become second nature to them. Ron’s older brothers were more than Gryffindor’s notorious pranksters, and far more than Zonko’s chief rivals for all things humorous. They had always been good for a laugh or a distraction, which made it easy to overlook just how smart they really were. Harry had realized it during the war, although the chaos then had made it difficult for him to act on it. It had only been after things had settled down, after he’d killed Voldemort and most, if not quite all, of his Death Eaters had been killed or captured and the rebuilding had begun, that he’d had the time to start getting to really know them. Hermione had taken an apprenticeship at St. Mungo’s, and Ron had gone into Auror training, which had taken up most of their time. Harry, however, still hadn’t decided on exactly what he wanted to do with his life, and had cautiously begun popping in on the twins; mostly for the company, partly to get away from the fussing that he tended to receive from others. When they seemed to not only not mind, but to be genuinely glad to see him, his visits had gotten so frequent as to be routine and expected, although Harry still tried to be mindful of the fact that anyone’s welcome could become worn out. Especially his.

A couple hours and a few position changes later, Harry found himself draped over two laps. His head rested in George’s lap, and his legs were draped over Fred’s. George was giving him the best scalp massage ever – not that he had any to compare it to. His soft sigh prompted chuckles from the twins, but he wasn’t about to complain. They could be as amused as they liked, so long as George didn’t stop scritching his fingers over Harry’s scalp.

The fingers gently sliding up his belly, pushing away his t-shirt, made him go very still, however. “Erm, Fred? What are you....”

“Relax, Harry,” George soothed. “Nothing bad is going to happen.”

“Oh no,” Fred agreed. “It’s going to be very, very good.”

The twins shifted and Harry found himself laying directly on the couch rather than their laps. It finally occurred to Harry to open his eyes so he could see for himself what they were up to. Just because they were his friends didn’t mean they weren’t also the pranksters they were famed for being. And Harry really didn’t like surprises.

With his eyes open, his field of vision was completely filled by George’s face, which got closer and closer to his own. He had the brief, wild thought, ‘is he gonna lick me?’ before his mouth was taken in a hot, demanding kiss.

George made the third person he’d ever kissed, and apparently the old adage ‘third time’s the charm’ applied to kisses, too. It was nothing like Cho’s overly wet effort, or even Ginny’s eager but soft kisses. His mouth was opened, invaded and owned, and it got him hotter faster than anything else had in his life.

His lips tingled when George finally pulled away. Harry licked them, eyeing George’s puffy-looking mouth longingly. Then he swung his gaze towards Fred. A naughty grin stretched pink lips as Fred shuffled over and fastened their mouths together. Fred’s kiss was a hint rougher, with deliberate grazes of teeth to tongue and lips, making Harry shiver.

There were hands pushing his shirt up further, and more hands opening his trousers. With his cock harder than it’d ever been, Harry couldn’t do much beyond arch into the hands all over him and clutch at Fred’s shoulders rather desperately.

One of them urged him upright, he wasn’t sure which one, and his shirt was pulled off. He panted, lips closer to sore rather than merely tingling. The cool air on his overheated skin cleared his mind somewhat, and blinked back and forth between two pairs of twinkling, darker than normal blue eyes. Two kiss swollen mouths smiled at him. Breathless and hot and turned on and desperately confused, Harry clutched at their hands. “What...I mean, why...?”

“If you don’t know what...”  
“We aren’t doing it right!” they chorused.

Harry flushed, embarrassment rather than arousal staining his skin. “Why?” he repeated.

The smiles faded and Harry could tell them apart again. He’d never been able to explain the knack, since there was nothing visually to distinguish them from each other. George shifted to sit behind him again, arms around his waist. “Hush, love. It’s alright,” he murmured. “We heard you earlier, you know.”

“We know it hasn’t been easy for you, what with all the superficial idiots out there,” Fred agreed, taking his hands, long fingers stroking along his palms and wrists. “Wanting your fame instead of you.”

“So we’re going to help you out,” George finished, punctuating it with a light pinch to one of Harry’s nipples.

Once the flash of pleasure/pain faded, he processed what they’d said and went still. “Help me out?” he repeated flatly. “Lovely.” He rolled to the side suddenly, cock gone soft even faster than it had gotten hard. The twins sort of toppled into each other before sitting up again to glare at him indignantly. Harry summoned his shirt to him with one hand as he zipped his trousers with the other. “You can keep your pity fuck,” he snapped. Before his hurt anger could make him say anything worse, he apparated out.

He arrived in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. He tossed his shirt across the room. Somehow, that didn’t come close to being satisfying, so he grabbed a plate out of the cupboard and threw it. The weight of the porcelain leaving his hand, combined with the loud tinkling of breaking glass, felt very satisfying, however, so he did it again. Within five minutes, he’d broken nearly every dish he owned. The wall was pitted and scratched from the impacts and the floor was littered with shards of broken glass. The anger was gone, leaving behind just the hurt and utter mortification of being so pathetic that his friends felt the need to shag him, since he couldn’t manage with anyone else. Not to mention a feeling of childishness over the tantrum.

With a sigh, Harry flicked his wand at the mess and repaired the dishes, then sent them back to their rightful places. He turned to leave the kitchen and halted. The twins were leaning in the doorway. Harry crossed his arms, embarrassment climbing to near lethal levels, and tried to summon at least a hint of his previous anger to hide behind. “What are you doing here?”

“You need a good smack upside the head,” Fred informed him.

“So we’ve come to deliver it,” George added. He sighed then, and hung his head a bit. “Harry, we didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

“Which?” Harry shot back. “The bit about the pity fuck or the bit about the smack? Cause both seemed pretty clear to me.”

“They might’ve,” Fred agreed. “But, Harry, we never meant you to think we were shagging you out of pity.” He took a couple of cautious steps forward, hands shoved deeply into his pockets. “Good grief, we aren’t that generous, Harry. And you are nowhere near pathetic enough for the thought of pity to occur to us.”

Some of the hurt faded, leaving confusion in its wake. “Then why?” he asked. “Was it just a – a whim? Or was I somehow convenient? Or – “

“Try ‘we think you’re hot and want you’,” George suggested dryly. “We thought we’d made that clear, what with all the touching and massaging and snuggling.”

“Funny, I didn’t think of all that as sexual.” Harry ducked his head, feeling stupid. Of course it had been sexual. Male friends just didn’t randomly hug and cuddle each other, after all.

“Apparently, brother-mine, we suck at this flirting business.” Fred glanced ruefully back at his brother, who nodded. “Of course, that rather begs the question: if you didn’t know we were flirting –“

“Then why were you returning all our touches?” George finished, walking forward to stand beside his brother.

“It felt good.” Harry shrugged. “I like to be touched, only nobody ever does, ‘cept your mum, and even she doesn’t do it much, and I just thought we were friends. Pretty stupid, huh? Friends do act like that, I should have realized.” He trailed off and just stood there while the twins traded a look that he couldn’t read. He wasn’t really hurt anymore, not the way he had been earlier. The twins were many things, but they weren’t liars, so he believed that they had genuinely wanted to sleep with him. He’d thoroughly messed that up, though, and now he just wanted this whole conversation to be over with so he could go curl up in a corner somewhere and feel completely sorry for himself. He was pretty sure that all that wonderful, easy closeness was gone. They’d be reduced to the occasional punch on the arm and back slaps, stilted, brief conversations, and prior engagements preventing visits or nights out at the pub.

“Harry, have you, ah, ever had sex before?” Fred asked finally, pulling him out of his depressing thoughts.

“No,” he admitted reluctantly. Just one more reason they wouldn’t want to bother with him; after all, who wanted to deal with a nervous virgin when what they wanted was some fun?

Again, they traded an undecipherable look. Harry was getting a little tired of those.

“Do you want to? With us, I mean?” George licked his lips, like he was contemplating a particularly delicious sweet.

Hope sprang up in Harry’s chest. Heart pounding, he took a small step forward. “That rather depends, doesn’t it?” If he hadn’t ruined things.... If they did still want him.... “Are you wanting a one-off, a fuck buddy, or...are you hoping it will be something a bit more permanent?”

“Oh, permanent, definitely. But what about you? For someone who never really thought about it before –“ George shut up when Harry finished closing the distance and wormed his way between them.

“I never said that. When did I say that?” Harry laid his head on Fred’s shoulder, for once not minding that he was so short. “I didn’t understand what you were doing, and I wouldn’t have ever approached you because I would have been too afraid of losing what I had with you, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been wanking myself raw thinking about you two.” He blushed so hard it was almost painful over that admission, but other than delighted smiles, there was no teasing. There was, however, a somewhat callused hand running down his back, that stoppped just before it reached his arse. It reminded Harry of the fact that he was half naked.

George leaned down to brush his lips over Harry’s. “Are we good now? No more points to clarify, no more misunderstandings to clear up?” he whispered.

“N-no,” Harry sighed, looping his arms around George’s neck to make sure he stayed close. “Sorry about that, I just –“

“Mm, easy, pet.” Fred nuzzled behind his ear, wet tongue and hot breath making him shiver. “Poor choice of words on our part. Any man’s prick would wilt, thinking he was getting a pity fuck.”

“Which you aren’t,” George assured him again, trailing his lips along Harry’s jaw to his other ear. Harry shuddered, fingers tangling in the slightly coarse hair under his hands. The movement, slight as it was, pressed him more firmly to the body in front of him. The feel of an impressive erection rubbing against his own reawakening cock was startling, for some reason. Jerking his hips back only made him aware of the equally impressive erection behind him.

Fred’s tiny gasp of pleasure helped settle his nerves somewhat. Emboldened, he rubbed his rear deliberately against Fred’s cock, earning a louder gasp and fingers clamping down on his hips. Harry pushed back again, straining against the grip that tried to make him hold still.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” George hissed. “Look at you, rubbing yourself on his prick like a cat in heat.” Harry nipped his ear for that, not that he truly minded. George brought his hands up, fingers splayed wide to cover as much skin as possible. When he reached Harry’s nipples he began to play with them. They tightened, becoming stiff little peaks that seemed to point straight at George.

“I think,” Fred murmured, between nibbles to Harry’s earlobe, “we should move this party elsewhere. A bedroom?”

“Best be yours, then,” Harry said breathlessly. “I’m sure you’ve got lube.”

“Why, Harry, just what are you implying?”

Harry rubbed his arse a bit harder against Fred, further turned on by the fingers that tightened even more on his hips. “That you’ve got lube. Which I don’t,” he said. “Can we go?”

Fred chuckled and stepped back. He was smiling when Harry looked back at him, no hint of teasing or mischief to be seen. Just happiness and what Harry was beginning to recognize as arousal. The look was echoed in George’s eyes when Harry glanced at him. “Yeah,” Fred answered. “George’ll take you right to the bedroom.” Still with that relaxed, happy smile, Fred apparated.

Harry pressed closer to George and tilted his head with a smile. “Take me,” he ordered.

George wrapped an arm tightly around his waist, eyes darkening almost to indigo. “Oh, I will,” he promised. “Don’t you worry about that.” Harry felt the tingling sensation that preceded side-along before his body contracted and snapped back into place. Side-along tended to make him a little dizzy, so it took him a few moments before he looked around. When he did, he found that the twins’ bedroom...was a mess. Clothes, take-away containers, magazines and other debris covered the floor, the dresser, and the night stand. Harry rather suspected that the neatness of the rest of the flat had to do mostly with Molly Weasley’s penchant for random visits than any real desire for it from the twins.

Harry also noted one other important fact: there was only, admittedly large, bed. “I knew it,” he crowed, wiggling excitedly. Fred stopped trying to shove things into an overfull closet, and George held him at arms length while they both favored him with a confused look. “You two sleep together,” he explained, nodding at the bed. “With or without a third.” He ducked his head as several of his favorite fantasies crossed his mind. “I’d like to watch that sometime.”

“Urm....” George looked at Fred, then back at Harry. “You do know that shouldn’t get out, right? It’ll be a bit scandalous that we’re both seeing you, or that you’re seeing both of us or whatever. But if it got out that Fred and I are closer than people think....”

“I’m not stupid, George.” Harry rolled his eyes. “I won’t tell anyone. At least, not as long as you both fulfil my every whim,” Harry said in a mock-sinister tone.

George instantly dropped to his knees and rubbed his face against Harry’s hip. “Name your desire, oh Master,” he simpered. “We will do anything to please you.”

Harry glanced at the bed, the one surface in the room without clutter. “Well, you could show me what else that’s good for besides sleeping, for a start. We’ll see where that takes us, shall we?”

Laughing, George surged to his feet and scooped Harry up, all in one move. He tossed him onto the bed, and Fred, laughing just as brightly, abandoned his efforts at the closet to jump in beside him.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry sipped his coffee slowly, eyes fastened to the busy stove. Eggs scrambled in one pan while bacon fried in another, each pan attended to by charmed utensils. It was the sort of mundane, every day sort of magic that had yet to pall. Harry hoped it never did, although he knew his pleasure in it often garnered indulgent, slightly condescending smiles from others.

Oh, of those others could see him! He smiled, thinking of the looks that would cross the faces of someone like Scrimgeour if they got even were to get a glimpse. His life resembled that of a 50's housewife: his lovers went off to work after eating a breakfast made by him. When they’d gone, he’d spend some time cleaning up, getting laundry done (both never ending jobs considering the twins’ relaxed attitudes towards both chores) then he’d make lunch – which he then delivered to the shop. He tried to get in a round of visits with friends at least a few afternoons a week, but he still made it home in time to get something on for dinner. On the afternoons that his friends were too busy for a visit (which was often, since most of them either had jobs were in training for jobs) he’d spend time in the garden or library.

Harry was sure he’d be mocked, but he couldn’t bring himself to really care. He didn’t intend to spend the rest of his life like that, but he definitely intended to enjoy it while it lasted.

Warm hands slid around his waist, bringing with them a smile and a rush of heat to his belly. The back of his neck was thoroughly kissed and licked, while those hands opened his robe to run unimpeded over his body. “Mm, George,” he purred. “G’morning.”

“Good morning, love,” George mumbled against his skin. He pushed Harry’s robe down, and only quick reflexes saved his coffee mug from a messy death. Harry braced himself against the counter with both hands, knees already shaking as George kissed down the length of his spine. Frustratingly, George stopped just at the top of his cleft and stepped towards the coffee pot. “Is the coffee fresh?”

Harry gaped at him for a moment, catching a hint of George’s quickly repressed smirk. Hiding a smirk of his own, he bent to pick up his robe. “Yeah, it is,” he said, managing to sound casual. He slid the robe on and belted it sloppily, leaving one shoulder bare. He snagged his wand off the table and flicked it at the stove, assembling three heaping plates full of food. “I’ll just go fetch Fred, then.” He turned as though to leave.

Laughing, George caught him around the middle and pulled him in tight. “Not fair, calling my bluff.”

Harry wrapped his arms around his neck and walked backwards until he bumped into the table. One thorough kiss later and he was flat on his back on the table, robe open and George between his legs. George was fumbling rather gracelessly with the ties to his leather trousers. Harry smiled and stretched, feeling wonderfully decadent. “Accio cooking oil!” A heavy glass container flew into his open palm. Harry chucked the stopper, uncaring about the sound of breaking glass.

George’s hands stilled, fingers tangled in the laces as he watched. Harry poured a generous puddle of the oil onto his belly and set the container aside. He coated both hands in the stuff and started at his chest, slowly massaging the oil into his skin, paying special attention to his nipples, which hardened instantly beneath his touch and George’s gaze.

After spending a several moments playing, he left his nipples alone and continued to rub the oil down over his ribs and belly, swirling a finger round and round his belly button until George was panting. His hands jerked, snapping the laces on his trousers. Harry moved on before he could do anything else.

He gave his cock only a perfunctory caress, just enough to make it shine, then slid his hands down to his inner thighs. He moved up slowly and cupped his balls, which almost backfired when he nearly came. He had to give them a light tug to stave off his orgasm, and judging by the groan George let out, that nearly made _him_ come.

He dipped his hands in the puddle again and spread his legs out as wide as he could manage, heels barely propped on the table. It was an awkward position and wouldn’t hold up to anything too strenuous, but for right then.... He circled his hole with one finger, spreading plenty of the oil. Then, without warning, he pushed two fingers inside, back arching with the pleasure of the quick intrusion. “Ah! Oh yeah, mmm,” he sighed, sliding his fingers out slowly and pushing them in again.

“Bloody fuck,” George breathed. He was wide-eyed and slack-jawed as he watched Harry finger himself open.

Harry bit his lip as his hips started to move, pushing onto his fingers. “George?”

“Yeah?” George didn’t so much as glance away from his arse.

“Get your trousers open, George,” Harry ordered breathlessly.

“Huh? Oh!” Galvanized, George struggled again with his trousers, tossing fragments of the laces away without a thought until he was able to push the tight leather down his thighs.

Harry reached out and hooked a leg behind his lover’s back and used the grip to pull a very willing George closer. Close enough to reach with his other oil covered hand. “Don’t come yet!” he ordered when his touch made George buck helplessly into his slippery grip. George shot him a quick, dirty look, before his gaze was inevitably drawn back to their almost joined groins.

Impatient, Harry removed his fingers from his body and guided George’s leaking erection into place. George took over then, as impatient as Harry was. He bent over Harry, one hand braced on the table, and gave him a slow, deep kiss as he pressed his hips forward. Harry wrapped both legs around his waist and tangled his fingers in his hair, urging George with his whole body to go faster. George obliged him, setting a fast, hard pace that had the table legs screeching against the floor with each thrust.

George shifted his angle a bit to rub over his prostate. Harry tore their mouths apart with a gasp, fingers pulling at the hair they were tangled in as he buried his face against George’s shoulder. He had a distressing tendency to bite, and figured the shoulder was better than the tongue.

Knowing that Harry was close, George wormed a hand between them to stroke Harry’s cock. Half a dozen strokes later, Harry arched, teeth sinking into George’s shoulder as he spilled between them. As his climax waned, he kissed the abused skin to soothe it.

Well accustomed to this, George cupped his cheek with his sticky hand and pulled his mouth up for a kiss as his hips snapped furiously against his now pliant body until he groaned and shuddered his way through his own toe-curling release.

Harry ran his hands up and down George’s back, laying affectionate kisses along his jaw and neck. He couldn’t resist a tiny nibble to his earlobe when he whispered, “Breakfast is getting cold.”

George groaned, laughing a little. “Too bad. Can’t move. Shagged away my spine.”

“Complaining?”

“Not in this life!”

“Even when I tell you that your shirt and trousers are probably ruined?” Harry teased. It was true, though – the purple silk shirt was covered with sweat and come, and torn a little where Harry had bitten him, and the trousers were undoubtedly covered with oil and come.

He never got an answer. From the doorway, and outraged voice squawked, “What in the hell is going on here? Get offa Harry, you!”

George bolted upright in shock. Unfortunately, he was still inside Harry, and he hadn’t softened much. Harry cried out when George’s sudden motion pulled their bodies apart too roughly and curled around himself protectively.

Confusion reigned, with Ron yelling, George yelling back while trying to both dress himself and check on Harry. Fred apparated down from the bedroom, wand waving threateningly even after the ‘threat’ had been identified.

Harry caught his breath as the sharp, tearing sensation eased to a tolerable burning ache. Even though being caught on his kitchen table with a cock up his arse, and oil and semen coating him from chest to groin rather dented his dignity, Harry tried to muster some anyway. He eased off the table and pulled his robe back on. When it was tied securely, he took in the situation: three Weasley tempers were flaring dramatically, and Ron looked like he was moments away from drawing his own wand. “Hey!”

His shout brought all eyes to him. Harry pointed at Ron. “You! Go wait in the living room, please.”

“But!”

“Ron! I’ll be there in a few minutes, but I’d like to clean up and get dressed first, if you don’t mind. Alright?” Harry stared his friend down until Ron nodded once and slunk out, casting sullen, angry looks over his shoulder at all three of them. Harry turned and snatched up two of the plates. “Fred, sweets, you should go open the shop.” He pressed the plates into his hands, forcing Fred to tuck his wand away to take them.

“But you’re hurt, I heard....” Fred protested.

“It’s nothing serious,” Harry assured him. “Now go, George’ll be along as soon as he’s changed.”

The twins shared a complicated Look before Fred gave in with a nod. He kissed Harry, then his brother, before he disapparated with breakfast in hand.

George cuddled up to him, arm around his waist. “Sorry about your arse, love. Does it hurt terribly?”

“No.” Which wasn’t really true, but Harry had been hurt far worse, and he was reasonably sure that he wasn’t actually bleeding. He gave George a quick kiss, then stepped back. “You need to clean up and change, babe. I’ll shower here, you head to the flat. Ron isn’t going to wait forever.”

“I’ll stay and help you with Ronnie-kins,” George suggested, eyes glittering.

“No way. One Weasley temper is enough.” Harry shook his finger at him. “You go and help Fred.”

“But, Harry!” George wilted under Harry’s glared. “Alright,” he mumbled. “But if he’s an arse to you....”

“I’ll tell your mum,” Harry promised, cutting him off.

“You fight dirty,” George approved. With one last dirty look shot in Ron’s direction, he left.

Harry quickly went upstairs to wash and dress. When he joined Ron in the living room, he found his friend pacing angrily from one end of the room to the other. Harry frowned. He knew Ron had a quick temper, and embarrassment tended to make him angry, but he should have cooled down some. “Good morning, Ron,” he said cautiously.

Ron whirled, glaring hard enough to kill. “What the hell was that?!” he demanded.

“Sex. Bloody good sex, actually. Ron, you knew I was queer a long time ago. I told you!”

“You didn’t say you were gonna be queer with my family! And why was Fred here too, huh?”

Harry rubbed the back of his neck, half wishing he’d had his lovers stay. “I’m involved with both of them, actually. They’re willing to share me, and I can’t bear to choose, so –“

“That’s – sick,” Ron said flatly. Harry felt like he’d been slapped. “They’re brothers, Harry. It’s not right to be with more than one person at a time, even if they know about each other, but to be with brothers? What are you guys thinking?”

Harry frowned as a cold knot formed in his belly. “I know it’s not exactly normal,” he began carefully. “But I care about them both, Ron. And as long as it’s not hurting anyone –“

“Oh, don’t give me that, Harry,” Ron spat. “It’s sick. Anyone can see that! I don’t know what you think gives you the right to play with people like this, but you don’t have it.”

“I’m not playing with anyone!” Harry protested.

“Ha! First Ginny, now Fred and George. Who’s next? Percy? Charlie? Bill’s straight, and there’s no way he’d leave Fleur for you anyway, so he’s out. So’m I, for that matter. So what happens when you get bored with your matched set?”

“I love them, Ron! This isn’t a game, I’m not going to get bored with them. Jesus, Ron.” Harry took a deep breath, trying to control his anger. “I love them,” he repeated. “And unless _they_ decide that this isn’t working for them, unless they decide they don’t like the way things are, my relationship with them isn’t going to change. Why is it so awful that I love two people, who are willing to share me? Yes, they happen to be twins. But...I mean, they made the first move. I’m not using them or playing with them. We’re happy, Ron.”

“Then you’re all perverts,” Ron said coldly.

“How _dare_ you?” Harry hissed. “You barge in here uninvited, pass judgement on me, and then you stand there and insult both me and my lovers? You’ve got no right, you self righteous bastard!”

“They’re my brothers.” Ron shook his head disgustedly. “Forget it. You obviously won’t listen to me. We’ll just see what Mum has to say about this, though. Even if _you_ won’t listen to her, I’m sure the _twins_ will.”

“Don’t you dare! It isn’t your place, Ron. It’s up to Fred and George when they’re ready to tell her about me.”

“Like they would. Someone has to tell her before this hits the papers. She’d be devastated, and I won’t let that happen.”

“If you tell her before they’re ready, I’m not going to speak to you again,” Harry said evenly.

“That’s fine,” Ron replied, just as evenly. “As long as you’re playing the deviant, I don’t want to speak to you.” With that, Ron disapparated.

“Aargh!” A barely directed blast of power turned the love seat into a smoldering heap. Furious, hurt beyond measure, Harry struggled to bring himself under control. It wasn’t _fair_. Ron would go yowling to his mother, putting things in the worst possible light, and getting Molly set against them from the start.

Harry was torn. He wanted to chase Ron down, wanted to talk to Molly himself in an effort to counteract whatever bile Ron was spewing to her. More, he wanted to seek out his lovers and beg for reassurance. But, ultimately, it was a family issue. However much he wanted to be, Harry wasn’t really part of their family. His presence could only make things worse. All he could do was wait, and hope that Fred and George didn’t decide that keeping the peace in the family was more important than staying with him. It was a faint hope, though. After all, even if they left him, they’d still have each other.

~

Fred was largely unsurprised when George slunk sheepishly into the shop from their flat above. He just passed over the second plate of food, giving his brother a wry grin along with it. Neither of them could really resist the Look from their lover.

He eyed George critically as his brother ate. Beneath the distraction that they both shared, George had a particular aura of smug satisfaction. Fred raised an eyebrow at him, getting a wide grin in response. Good?” He didn’t mean the food, which was as excellent as always – even reheated.

“Um.” George licked his lips, eyes gone glassy. “He used the cooking oil,” he said vaguely, gesturing at his chest. “Put on a show and laid himself out on the table, and his robe was all...and then his fingers! Mmm.”

“You know, you _could_ have gotten me up sooner,” Fred grumbled. “I wouldn’t have minded.” George only laughed and finished eating.

Fred got started on the books, listening with half an ear to George putting together the owl orders. With school in session, most of their business was done by mail, although they generally got a quick influx of customers over lunch and after most folks got done with work for the day. But he was distracted, as was George, with worry. Ron had started to say some nasty things before Harry had sent them all packing. And the longer that went by without word from Harry, the more edgy they got. Ron...had a temper.

About forty minutes after the kitchen incident, the bell over the door honked. Fred looked up, automatically grinning until he saw his mum. Unsuccessfully trying to hide behind her was Ron. George came out from the back, already frowning. “Mum. Ron.”

“Hello, dears,” Molly said cheerfully. “Your brother has brought me some interesting news. Is it true? Are you both involved with Harry?”

“For about a month now,” George confirmed, eyes narrowed on Ron.

“We wanted a bit more time with him all to ourselves before we had to share,” Fred added, mentally going over revenge options.

“That’s wonderful!” Molly descended on them with a flurry of hugs and kisses. Fred submitted, absently patting her back, as he watched Ron over her shoulder. There was shock for a moment, and then building anger on his little brother’s face. Fred counted down silently. 5...4...3...2....

“Mum! You can’t seriously approve!” Ron bleated.

“And why _not_?” George demanded.

“Because it’s sick,” Ron shot back. “And so are all of you for doing it.”

Fred lunged, pulled up short by George. “Shut your damned mouth,” he snarled.

“Did you say that to Harry?” George hissed. “Your _best friend_?”

“Yeah, I did.” Ron lifted his chin. “You’re all a bunch of perverts, and it’s got to stop.”

Molly sighed and flicked her wand. The door locked and the after hours wards activated. “Harry’s probably worried sick, you know how he is. You go take care of him. I’ll deal with your brother,” she ordered. “Come to dinner tonight – all three of you.”

“We’ll see. It depends on Harry,” George muttered, glaring at Ron. Fred felt the same, of course. Ron had gone too far, and if their mother hadn’t been standing right there, brother or no, they’d have let their displeasure be known. As it was, they could only nod at their mother and leave.

~

He was sulking and he knew it. But, convinced as he was that his would was about to crumble, Harry couldn’t make himself stop. When his lovers appeared in front of the window seat he’d curled up on wearing twin looks of agitation, he felt it was only confirmation of the end. “How furious is your mum?” he asked listlessly.

“She’s not,” Fred said forcefully.

“She’s pretty pleased for us, actually,” George agreed. “Please don’t tell us you thought she’d be anything but!”

Harry shrugged, feeling only the slightest bit of guilt. “I never thought Ron would lose his mind like he did. And I had no way of knowing what he’d actually tell her.”

“And – what? You thought that because he’s an arse, we’d decide to stop playing with yours?” Fred demanded.

“No,” Harry protested. “But, I just.... Look, when he dragged your mum into it, he made it into a family thing. How the hell can I compete with – that?” He waved a hand a little wildly. “I mean, I remember Percy, you know. I know how hurt you all were when he picked his job and Fudge’s bull over his family. It’s the most important thing to all of you, and I’m really not part of that.”

“You unbelievable idiot.” George wedged himself into the window seat beside him. “You are part of the family.”

“Very much so.” Fred knelt in front of him. “And mum always takes the side of the sibling who’s right. Which would be us, in case you were wondering. You belong, Harry.”

“More than that, you belong to us.” George wormed his arms around him. “We are not going to let you go.”

“Not ever,” Fred promised. “Seriously. Where else would be find someone who’s rich, sexy, and can cook like you?”

George cuffed his brother without even looking. “We love you. Alright?”

Harry relaxed, relief making him giddy. “Alright. Sorry. I just...Ron, y’know? I do love you. Beyond reason, even.” He smiled down at where Fred had laid his head next to his knee.

“That’s good.” George started to nibble on his ear. “Mum wants us over for dinner tonight.”

Harry groaned and tucked his face against George’s chest. “Couldn’t we stay home and shag instead?”

Fred perked right up. He sent one hand towards his brother’s crotch and the other towards Harry’s. “Of course we can, love.”

“Fred! Do you really want Mum hunting us down to check on Harry?”

Fred hardly paused. “Well, but that won’t be for hours yet. It’s not even lunch time! Besides, I didn’t get any morning loving.”

Harry pushed at George. “Go on! He’ll be impossible until he gets off, and my arse is too sore to see to him.”

“You make it sound like such a chore,” Fred complained. Harry just grinned and gave George another push, toppling him down onto his brother.

~

Harry tumbled out of the fireplace into two sets of waiting hands. His smile was rather sickly, and he latched onto a hand from each of them with a bit of desperation. “Are you _sure_ your mum wasn’t upset at all?”

Fred banished the soot that Harry always ended up coated in with a bit more force than necessary. “Yes. We are very sure, Harry.”

“Would the two of you relax?” George brushed a kiss over Harry’s cheek. “It’s just dinner, not the battle for the free world.”

“I’ve done the battle for the free world,” Harry pointed out. “I’ve never had dinner with the in-laws before.”

His lovers rolled their eyes in unison and began to tow him towards the kitchen. Harry stopped short in the doorway. Not because Arthur was chatting with Ginny. Not because Molly was setting a roast on the table. But because Ron was slouched sullenly in his usual seat, arms crossed over his chest.

“Harry!” Molly, beaming brightly, tugged him away from the twins for one of her bone crushing hugs. “Oh, I’m so glad you decided to come. Sit, sit! You’re just on time.” She released him, still beaming. “Hello, dears,” she said absently to Fred and George as she led Harry to the table.

Miraculously reassured, Harry tossed a smirk over his shoulder – he was obviously Molly’s favorite. It died a second later when Molly tried to put him in his usual seat beside Ron. “Molly.” He nodded at the other side of the table and the twins’ usual seats. “I’d rather....”

“Of course, how silly of me.” She didn’t miss a beat or bat an eye. She got Harry settled between Fred and George and soon everyone was settled with heaping plates full. With the exception of Ron, everyone was talking with easy, good cheer. And even though Ron wasn’t talking, he wasn’t making a scene, either.

Half-way through the meal, Ginny suddenly speared the twins with a predatory look. On either side of him, his lovers froze like a pair of rabbits that had suddenly stumbled on a snake. “So. You two need a shop assistant.”

“Since when?” George frowned. “Fred?”

“News to me,” Fred shrugged.

Ginny rolled her eyes. “So. You two _need_ a shop assistant,” she repeated. “I can start tomorrow. We’ll discuss my wages in the morning.”

“Erm, Gin? Why are we hiring you?” Fred wanted to know.

“Because I need a job with good wages and flexible hours so I can get started on my robe shop. And you don’t want me to hex you into a pair of puddles,” she said promptly.

“Robe shop? Going to compete with Madam Malkin, then?” Harry sipped his butterbeer, mind working.

“Yes,” Ginny said cheerfully. “Her prices are vastly inflated, and she won’t do much as far as modern styles are concerned. As soon as I can get enough money to rent someplace and lay in enough raw materials.... In the meantime, I’m going to work for those two and make some display robes.” Her eyes gleamed wickedly. “Unless, of course, they’d like to share how _they_ got their start-up funds.”

Molly chuckled. “I’ve been trying to pry that out of them from the start!”

Harry glanced at each of his lovers in turn. “Is it a secret, then?”

“Well....” Fred rubbed his jaw, eyes flickering towards Molly.

“We don’t want Mum thinking we took advantage,” George explained.

“Don’t be silly, it was my idea,” Harry reminded them easily. “I’m their investor. They do all the work, and I sit back and watch my retirement fund grow.” Which was stretching the truth just a tad. The money had been a gift, free and clear. It was the twins who’d always insisted that he was a silent partner entitled to part of the profits. He pointed his fork at Ginny. “I’m happy to either loan you the money or be a silent partner. It’s up to you. Of course, it might not be a bad idea for you to learn about bookkeeping and such before you start.”

Ginny looked torn. “I don’t know, Harry. It’s going to cost a lot to start a robe shop. Even buying in bulk, good quality material isn’t cheap.”

“I’m pretty sure I can afford it, Gin,” Harry said dryly. “But it’s up to you.”

“Well...we can talk more about it in the morning. I’ll bring along my estimates so you know what kind of figures we’re talking about. How’s that?”

“Oi! Don’t we get a say in any of this?” Fred complained.

“Not sure we need an assistant,” George chimed in.

“Well, but then you’d have more free time. Maybe even a day off,” Harry pointed out.

They paused for a brief, silent moment. Then: “Be there at eight!” they chorused.

Ginny laughed wickedly, winking at Harry.

Ron stood up abruptly, breaking the jovial mood. “I can’t do this,” he said tightly. “I can’t believe that none of you has a problem with this twisted arrangement. And now he wants to buy Ginny, too.”

Harry blinked as everyone started shouting, and Ron found himself pinned to his seat, mouth working but unable to open. Gradually, it dawned on the rest of the Weasley’s that something was a bit off, and they all fell silent. Harry propped his head on his hand and smiled slightly at Ron. “Ron, mate, I want you to stop and think about what you just said. Think about what it says about your sister rather than what it says about me, and then consider if you think you owe her an apology.”

Ron writhed in his seat for a few moments, face red with rage. He stilled after a bit, breathing hard, and just stared at Harry. Harry could see the moment when Ron understood that he’d just called his sister a whore and watched him flick a guilty look at her. “I get that you think I’m doing something wrong by loving both your brothers. So you can insult me all you like, but you don’t get to insult anyone else just because they don’t agree with you. Is that clear?” He released his friend from the binding and silencing spells and waited.

Ron stood up again. “I’m sorry, Ginny. I didn’t really think of how that sounded and I didn’t mean it that way,” he apologized. “But I can’t sit here watching all of you act like everything’s okay. What they’re doing is wrong, and I won’t have anything to do with it.” He disapparated with a crack, leaving behind a shocked silence.

Molly was the first to break it. “That boy,” she fumed. “When I get my hands on him....”

“You boys alright?” Arthur asked anxiously, patting his wife’s arm.

“Sure,” Fred bit out.

“Just peachy,” George added bitterly. Harry just shrugged, staring down at his plate.

“Don’t be an ass, Harry,” Ginny said firmly. “Ron’s got that covered for you. None of the rest of us has a problem with you three. And Mum already firecalled Bill, Charlie, and Percy, so I _know_.”

Harry mustered up a smile. “Thank, Gin.”


End file.
